Cold Storage has an oddly quiet first few minutes. Under a pale sky, the Australian outback expands. The air is filled with dust. With a dull thud that indicates trouble is on the horizon, a portion of NASA’s long-forgotten space station Skylab falls from orbit and lands. It’s difficult to watch that scene without thinking of vintage science fiction movies from the 1970s, which held the belief that something unpleasant could fall to Earth from space at any time.
In this instance, the unpleasant thing is a fungus. Not the adorable, edible variety used in pasta recipes. This one moves with an unsettling patience, resembling green tendrils crawling across metal surfaces. The film, which is directed by Jonny Campbell and is based on David Koepp’s 2019 novel, poses the straightforward but unnerving question, “What if the government unintentionally brought back something from space that refuses to stay contained?”
| Category | Details |
|---|---|
| Title | Cold Storage |
| Director | Jonny Campbell |
| Screenplay | David Koepp |
| Based On | Cold Storage (2019 novel) by David Koepp |
| Main Cast | Georgina Campbell, Joe Keery, Liam Neeson |
| Genre | Horror Comedy / Sci-Fi Thriller |
| Production | United States–France Co-Production |
| Release Dates | Jan 29, 2026 (Mexico & Brazil), Feb 13, 2026 (USA), Feb 18, 2026 (France) |
| Music | Mathieu Lamboley |
| Distributor (USA) | Samuel Goldwyn Films |
| Critical Score | 78% Rotten Tomatoes |
| Reference | https://www.rottentomatoes.com |
On paper, the idea might seem ridiculous. A Kansas self-storage facility is experiencing the spread of a rogue fungus from orbit. However, the movie takes the concept seriously enough to keep audiences interested. This is still a horror comedy, so it’s not solemn seriousness; rather, it’s the kind that recognizes the peculiar logic of B-movie science.
The narrative shifts from that dusty crash site in Australia to a storage facility in Kansas several decades later. With its rows of metal doors, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, and the subtle scent of cardboard and old furniture, the building itself resembles hundreds of others strewn across American highways. Naturally, the twist is that the fungus sample is kept in a sealed government vault beneath the structure.
The film seems to understand boredom as you watch the two night guards, Travis “Teacake” Meacham and Naomi Williams, patrol the silent hallways. With a casual shrug, Joe Keery portrays Teacake, the kind of employee who spends his shift reading paperback science fiction. In contrast, Georgina Campbell’s Naomi appears more perceptive, observing everything with the watchful eye of someone who anticipates problems. They do.
It begins modestly. There was an alarm somewhere in the structure. A rat acting oddly close to a locked door. Then, like spilled paint that has somehow learned to move, the fungus starts to spread along surfaces in thin green threads. It’s the kind of image that falls somewhere between hideous and strangely captivating.
Robert Quinn, one of the first agents who attempted to contain the organism years ago, is portrayed by Liam Neeson. Watching Neeson, an actor known for his grim action roles, return to fight what is essentially a malicious plant is subtly humorous. However, he handles the matter with the blatant seriousness that somehow makes the ridiculous idea work.
Instead of using punchlines, the humor in the film is subtly introduced through strange circumstances. Arriving to steal televisions from the storage facility is a biker gang. A deer carrying the infection staggered through the structure before bursting into a cloud of fungus spores. A dead cat comes back to life for a short while with terrible results. The scenes seem disorganized and erratic, as though the movie takes pleasure in witnessing its own mayhem.
At one point, the fungus gives a dead animal life and directs it in the direction of an elevator button. The tone of the entire movie is encapsulated in that one image, which is hideous, absurd, and oddly clever. The audacity of it makes it difficult not to smile.
The same thing appears to have been observed by critics. Reviews frequently characterize Cold Storage as a throwback—the kind of film that knows exactly what it is. Even though they make fun of older science fiction horror tales like The Andromeda Strain, it seems as though the filmmakers respect them.
The movie isn’t flawless, though. There are some unexpected plot twists that make one wonder if the script could have been tightened up a bit. However, the enthusiasm hardly ever wanes. Scenes move quickly with the disorganized zeal of a narrative that doesn’t want to stop and reflect for too long.
Not to be overlooked is the setting’s peculiar charm. Old couches, dusty photo albums, and boxes that no one has opened in years are all common items found in storage facilities. It seems strangely appropriate to turn someone into the epicenter of a biological catastrophe, as if the government had actually concealed a problem in the basement and hoped no one would find out.
There’s a sense that the film recognizes its own absurdity when you watch the last act, where characters rush to plant a small nuclear device outside the vault door. There is still tension, but it’s the kind that makes people laugh just as much as they are afraid.
And maybe that’s why cold storage is effective. Not because it offers unprecedented horror. However, it reminds us of something that older movies sometimes grasped better: science fiction can be both frightening and entertaining at the same time.
A tiny reminder can be found somewhere beneath the exploding deer and creeping fungus. A forgotten experiment sitting silently in a locked room, waiting for someone to open the door, can sometimes be the start of the most terrifying catastrophes.
